When this was done--and it was but the work of a minute--Wolf deemed it high time to think of his own safety, and pondered the propriety of escaping to his father’s cottage, to which foreign invaders were not likely to find their way. But his anxiety was so intense that he could not, for the life of him, muster resolution enough to leave the neighbourhood of the danger, and making such a circuit among the trees as kept him out of the way of the enemy, he drew as near to the front of the old house as he could without the risk of detection, and entering the hollow of an old pollard, peered cautiously out on the armed band. Meanwhile, guided by Clem, the Count de Perche--for he it was--halted before the great wooden gate, sounded trumpet, and demanded admittance. No answer being returned to his summons, the count grew wroth, and ordered his men to shoot. His order was promptly obeyed; but the flight of arrows produced no effect, and the count became red with rage. “Mort Dieu!” exclaimed he, turning round, “are we to be kept here all night by these stinking swineherds? Break open the gates.” Several men sprang over the moat, and soon their hammers and axes were applied with such vigour and energy, that the time-worn gate gave way before the heavy blows aimed at it. At the same time the drawbridge was lowered. “Now,” said the count with a significant gesture and in a decisive tone, “enter, and do your duty.” As he spoke, such of his men as had dismounted passed the drawbridge, rushed through the courtyard, and with little difficulty forced their way into the house; but, to their surprise, nobody appeared either to yield or resist. The place was deserted, and they roamed from chamber to chamber without meeting with a human being. It seemed by their ejaculations, and by their searching and re-searching, that the French soldiers were disappointed at the absence of flesh and blood. However, they laid hold of everything as spoil that was not too heavy to bear away, and returned to the count to report the result of their adventure; and he, after muttering a few oaths, gave his final order. “Set fire to this den without loss of time,” said he sharply, “and dally not, for we have far to ride. Mort Dieu! if this Icingla should think fit to visit his house this night, I will provide him with light sufficient to guide him on his way through the woods.” The count’s order was speedily obeyed. His men, indeed, seemed to relish the duty. Having ransacked the barns and the cow-houses, and killed the old cowherd, who, unluckily for him, arrived at that moment from the neighbouring hamlet, the soldiers brought wood and straw, and proceeded, with business-like precision, to the work of destruction, and the house, being chiefly constructed of timber--and that timber old and dry--was soon in a blaze.